


Sharpest Tulle in the Box

by Linsky



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Feminization, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: Mitch doesn’t quite believe it when he finds the dress.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Auston Matthews
Comments: 24
Kudos: 244





	Sharpest Tulle in the Box

**Author's Note:**

> For JTP! Thanks for suggesting both the story and the dress. [Here](https://www.agentprovocateur.com/us_en/fawn-dress-dusky-pink) is the garment in question, and [here](https://flic.kr/p/2iR2fP5) is a photo in case that link fails us.
> 
> Sorry about the title. I couldn't resist. XD
> 
> ([Tumblr](https://linskywords.tumblr.com)!)

Mitch doesn’t quite believe it when he finds the dress.

At first he just thinks, oh, one of Auston’s sisters must have left it here. They were up for like a week last month, and Mitch doesn’t remember any of them wearing this much pink fluff, but there were some nights he wasn’t around. Maybe they went to a club, and one of them forgot this when they went home.

It doesn’t look worn, though. It’s wrapped in, like, tissue paper or whatever, and it still has the tags on it. And that’s—wow. That’s a big price tag.

Mitch looks dubiously at it. He wouldn’t have thought a ball of pink fluff could cost that much.

Maybe Auston bought it as a present for one of his sisters. It seems like the kind of thing he’d do. It’s, like, a lot for a present, but Auston’s got the money, and he’s generous with his family. It’s one of the things Mitch loves about him.

This dress, though. Mitch pulls it out and holds it up and squints at it. He doesn’t know a lot about fashion or anything, but he feels like they should at least discount for quantity. This thing would only come like halfway down someone’s thighs.

Maybe they charge per pink fluffy flower. There’s definitely a lot of those. Actually, now that he looks properly, there’s a lot of fabric in general, even across the top part. It seems way bigger than Mitch would expect for a dress for one of Auston’s sisters. The tag says it’s a 12. Mitch doesn’t know what that means for girls’ sizes, but he feels like this is wrong.

So maybe it’s not a present for his sisters. Why does Auston have it under his desk in his study, then? It’s not like he’s going to wear it himself. He wouldn’t even let Bre paint his fingernails last month. It’s the kind of thing he might get for a girl he was dating, but the only person Auston’s dating right now is Mitch. So who the fuck does he think is going to wear—

Mitch stops, hand resting on a bit of pink fluff. A slow grin spreads across his face.

***

Mitch could be wrong about this. Like, the odds he’s wrong are pretty good, honestly, but he doesn’t _think_ he is. It’s like the intuition that tells him when to pass to someone on the ice. The impulse that told him to lean up on his toes and kiss Auston a few months back. This is the play; he can feel it.

Just in case, though, he decides to leave the tags on the dress.

He’s alone in Auston’s place. Auston had an appointment with the trainers this morning, some kind of massage, and Mitch pretended to be sleepy this morning so that he wouldn’t have to go with him. Now Auston is due back in twenty minutes or so, and it’s time for Mitch to get ready.

The dress slides on easily, just enough give to go over his shoulders. Another reason to think he was right about this. There are these little sleeves attached to the top that are supposed to sit at his upper arms. Those are a little tighter—take that, everyone who ever made fun of his muscles—but Mitch manages to slip into them without straining anything. The top of the dress is stretchy, lying snug over his pecs and biceps, and just under his pecs, the skirt starts, a couple of feet of fluffy dark pink that floats down to his upper thighs.

He goes into the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror. His hair is sticking up a little like it always does and his skin is pale against the fabric of the dress. His shoulders look big and bony, sticking up above the neckline, and the front of the stretchy top lies way flatter than it’s probably supposed to. It’s, like, super obvious that he’s not supposed to be wearing this.

He wonders if he should, like, pad his chest or something. He does have pecs, though. If he takes a deep breath in and looks at himself from the right angle, they sort of push out like breasts.

That’s kind of hot. Mitch has never been super into the idea of dressing like a girl or anything, but if Auston’s into it, Mitch is definitely into _that._ There’s nothing hotter than Auston being into something. The day Mitch realized Auston was into _him_ was basically the hottest day of his life.

Just the idea that Auston might be into this is making Mitch a little bit hard. He really fucking hopes he isn’t wrong about this dress thing.

He’s not sure what to wear underneath. He doesn’t have girl’s underwear or anything. Right now he’s still wearing his normal boxer-briefs, but those feel wrong with a dress like this. He shucks them down so that he’s not wearing any underwear at all. The wispy fabric of the dress brushes against his cock where it’s starting to harden. It’s weird: like the dress being so light makes him more aware of it. He shivers.

Auston should be back in a few minutes. Mitch goes out to the living room, heart beating fast with anticipation, and arranges himself on the couch. He tries a few positions—it’s hard to do anything with a dress this short, and he doesn’t want to be just, like, totally exposed. He settles for leaning against a few pillows, a little bit on his side, with one of his legs up so that his junk is mostly in the shadow of the skirt. He hopes.

Then he waits.

It’s pretty hot, splayed out on the couch waiting for Auston to come back and see him like this. Mitch feels the spark of it in his stomach, traveling along his veins. He’s not, like, fully hard or anything, but there’s definitely something heated in every breath he takes in. He tries to imagine what Auston will see when he comes in: Mitch’s skin pale against the blush color of the dress, one leg crooked up, the suggestive shadow around his crotch. He isn’t really used to thinking about himself this way, but he likes it. Likes the thought of the look on Auston’s face.

Assuming Auston ever gets here. It feels like it’s been forever. Mitch didn’t bring his phone out here, and that was probably mistake, because he doesn’t know how much time has gone by. He and Auston didn’t have firm plans this afternoon, but they did talk about hanging out. Mitch was hoping that would be enough to keep Auston from going to lunch with one of the other guys. But what if he decided to go out with one of them and text Mitch to invite him? Mitch could just be sitting on this couch like a fool while Auston is laughing with Freddie or whoever.

Mitch is just about to say fuck it and get up and get his phone when there’s the sound of a key in the lock.

He tenses. Checks his skirt. Contemplates running out of the room and pretending nothing ever happened. Decides to stick it out. Waits for the door to open.

Auston comes into the foyer, head down, sorting through his mail. He seems to be really focused on it: he shuffles through a few things, stops to read a flier, sticks a finger in an envelope to open it.

Mitch isn’t made of patience or anything. “Hey,” he says, and Auston looks over.

The mail falls to the ground.

For two painful heartbeats Mitch is convinced he read this totally, completely wrong. Auston looks more shocked than Mitch has ever seen him. He isn’t even moving—just standing there, frozen, like this isn’t even something he knows how to react to. Mitch’s entire, like, dignity flashes before his eyes—and then Auston’s mouth drops open. The color rises in his cheeks.

His eyes drag down Mitch’s body, from his collarbone to his toes, across those acres of bare skin and pink fluff. He makes a sound like a duck being strangled. Then a few more sounds that definitely aren’t words. Finally, “Holy fucking Christ,” he says.

Mitch lets a smirk spread over his face. Yeah; he was totally right. “Just thought I’d slip into something comfortable while I waited for you,” he says, sliding a hand up his bent leg. “Do you like it?”

“I,” Auston says, and then he doesn’t seem to have any words to finish the sentence. He stands there for a minute, mouth working helplessly, and then he strides across the room and reaches for Mitch’s head and crushes their mouths together.

Mitch’s stomach and cock leap at the feeling of Auston’s mouth on his. This isn’t a hello kiss. This is, like, a ten-minutes-into-a-heavy-make-out-session kiss. This is Auston halfway out of his head, and it’s sending Mitch’s pulse into overdrive.

After a minute Auston pulls back, breathing heavily. His eyes keep flicking from Mitch’s face down to his body, like he can’t believe it. “How did you know?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

Mitch shrugs, fighting the desire to dive right back into Auston’s mouth. “I found the dress,” he says. “Couldn’t think what else it could be for.”

Auston shakes his head, quick, eyes wide. “You’re totally crazy,” he says, placing a hand on Mitch’s knee.

“I was right, though,” Mitch says, pushing into the touch. Auston is touching him like it’s the first time—not like _their_ first time, which was pretty frantic, but like _a_ first time. Like he’s afraid to break him. It’s sort of amazing. “It totally gets you hot to see me in this dress.”

Auston nods, teeth sunk into his lower lip. His fingers are brushing really slowly up Mitch’s thigh, against the grain of the hair, making Mitch tingle. It’s like the best kind of torture.

He wants to see how far he can push it. “Did you think about this?” he asks. “Me all pretty for you, lying in the fancy dress you bought me and waiting for you to come home. Touching myself thinking about you fucking me—”

Auston gives a low moan, his fingers clamping down on Mitch’s thigh hard enough to bruise. He drops his head and pants for a couple of seconds, like he’s trying to get himself under control. Then he lunges forward and kisses Mitch again, his hand working up Mitch’s thigh in desperate grips.

“Yeah,” Mitch gasps, arching up into the kiss. This is what he wanted. Auston gets to his hip, to the stretch of bare skin, and he breaks off.

“You’re not wearing any underwear?” he asks, his voice strangled.

“Thought you’d want full access,” Mitch says, pushing a little more into Auston’s sliding hand. “Figured that was just— _ah_ —the kind of girl I am.”

Auston puts his mouth on Mitch’s neck and kisses him, soft and wet and tingly, while his thumb rubs a circle on Mitch’s hip. “You don’t mind?” he asks between kisses. “This, I mean, I know it’s like—”

Mitch can’t imagine minding the way Auston is touching him right now. “No, it’s, uh.” He tries to pull his brain back from the way Auston is making him feel long enough to answer. “I know you know I’m not a girl. If you wanted a girl, you could be dating one. This is just, like, a thing we can do together, ’cause it’s hot. Right?”

Auston has pulled back and is looking earnestly at him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s exactly—yeah.”

Mitch spreads his legs and runs his hand down to his thigh, making the bulge of his cock more obvious under the fluffy fabric. “Do you think I’m pretty like this?”

“Mitch,” Auston says, like he’s in pain. His mouth is open, breath coming in short gasps. He pushes up the skirt so that Mitch’s cock is exposed, hard and flushed against the pink of the skirt, and lowers his mouth to suck on it.

Mitch gasps and fights the urge to jerk his hips up into Auston’s mouth. The wet cling of Auston’s mouth, fuck, _yes._ “Yeah, that’s it,” he says, tipping his head back as Auston’s tongue drags up his shaft. “Suck on my clit.”

Auston makes a strangled noise around his cock, and the pressure of his mouth disappears. Mitch looks down to see him looking back, mouth open. “Is that, uh—” Auston clears his throat. “I mean—”

“You tell me,” Mitch says. “Am I wet for you?”

Auston sucks in a hard breath. He touches Mitch’s cock, wet with his spit and with dribbles of precome, and nods. “Yeah, you’re—you’re really wet.”

“Then I’d say you’re doing pretty well.” Mitch shifts his hips. Got wet just lying here thinking about you.”

“You did?” Auston closes his hand around Mitch’s cock.

“Mm.” Mitch jerks his hips in Auston’s grip. God, he didn’t expect this to be so hot. “I bet my clit’s all big and swollen now.”

Auston looks like he’s been hit in the face with a frying pan. “Yeah, yeah, you’re—you’re all swollen for me.”

“Feels so good when you finger my pussy,” Mitch says, and Auston moans and lowers his mouth to Mitch’s cock again. He’s not sucking it; he’s licking it, moving his tongue up and down, like—like it’s really a clit.

That hits Mitch right in the solar plexus, a gut punch of arousal. He’s never imagined himself with a pussy before. But now it’s so easy to picture it: Auston’s tongue dragging through his slick, more and more of it as he gets more and more turned on. Which is happening really fast. “Come on, eat me out,” he says, and Auston’s tongue moves lower and lower, sliding down toward his hole.

Mitch groans at the first swipe of Auston’s tongue over his hole. They haven’t done this a ton—it’s only been a few months, and they’ve been too focused on getting each other off to get too fancy. This, though. It’s sparking all the nerves in his body, a totally different sensation from Auston’s mouth on his cock.

Auston pokes his tongue inside his hole, all sloppy with spit, and rubs the head of Mitch’s cock like he might rub a girl’s clit. Then he raises his head, red-faced and breathing hard, and says, “I need—do you have—”

Mitch is so far gone it takes him a minute to track. He’s prepared, though. He pulls out the bottle of lube he stashed behind the cushions. Auston takes it and dribbles some over his fingers, and then—oh, _yeah._

“Yes, fuck your fingers into my cunt,” Mitch says, and Auston makes a strangled noise and stops, the heel of his other hand pressing on his own cock.

“Gonna kill me,” he says.

“Better not die yet, I _really_ need your cock in me,” Mitch says, and Auston shoves in three fingers at once, messy and urgent.

It’s faster than they usually go, but there’s lube everywhere, and Mitch is so turned on it only feels good. Auston’s eyes are trained on his fingers moving in and out of Mitch’s ass, except for when they flick up to Mitch’s face and the frothy dress pooled around his ribcage. He’s breathing like he’s trying to suck all the oxygen out of the room.

Mitch is right there with him. Auston’s fingers are curled up so that they hit his prostate on each stroke, and it’s building into something he can barely keep under control. “Aus, come on,” he says, squirming on his fingers.

“You need more?” Auston asks, leaning closer to him, still driving his fingers in mercifully.

Mitch can’t find words. They’ve all deserted him, driven out by the crackling pleasure of Auston’s fingers on his prostate, over and over again.

Auston seems to have gotten some of his control back, just when Mitch has lost his. “Ask me for what you want,” Auston says, a growl in his voice.

“I need—” Fuck, Mitch is gonna come just from this if he isn’t careful. He takes a deep breath and manages to gasp out, “Need you to fuck my cunt.”

Auston curses and pulls his fingers out to tear at his clothes. He finally gets his pants down, and his cock juts out, hard and full. Mitch’s ass clenches involuntarily. “Auston,” he moans, and Auston kneels down on the couch and pushes Mitch’s legs back and slides in, the full thick length of him.

Mitch cries out and bucks his hips up into it. Auston doesn’t waste any time, starts shoving in again and again, his whole body taut like it gets sometimes right before he comes. Mitch doesn’t want him to come yet—doesn’t want this mind-blowing rhythm to stop, doesn’t want Auston to stop shoving inside him and filling him up—but they’re both so far gone that he doesn’t think they can hang on very long.

“Play—with your breasts,” Auston chokes out, and Mitch moans and cups his hands around his pecs. He finds his nipples through the stretchy fabric and flicks them, gasping as the feeling shoots straight to his cock. “How does that feel?”

“ _So_ good, like—I don’t even know,” Mitch says, rolling his head back against the cushion.

“Yeah, you do,” Auston says. “You know how good I make you feel. Fuck, you look so good under me. Your pretty breasts, and your—oh, God, your mouth, and your slick cunt all around me—”

He bends down and takes Mitch’s mouth in a sloppy kiss. Mitch kisses him back hungrily, Auston’s tongue big and wet in his mouth. The rhythm of Auston’s cock is electric, their bodies meeting and making light burst behind Mitch’s eyelids.

He feels it when Auston starts to slip over the edge, thrusts going ragged and his mouth dropping open to suck in great gulps of air.

“Yeah, come in me,” Mitch says. He can feel it building in himself: that burning, tightening pleasure. “Come in my—in my cunt—” And then he’s gone, both of them are gone, groaning into each other as the wave crests and takes them with it.

The orgasm dissolves into the best warm tingling feeling. Auston laughs, sinking down into his arms, and Mitch kisses him again, feeling the sweat and slick of their come between them. They’re sticky and gross and out of breath, and Mitch has never felt so amazing.

They end up on their sides, Auston trailing his fingers through the come on his stomach. Mitch likes Auston’s touch there, likes the weight and warmth of his hand.

“I think the dress might be ruined,” Mitch says. He doesn’t usually come all that forcefully, but this time he’s managed to get it halfway up his chest, and it’s probably all over the fluffy fabric of the skirt.

“Nah,” Auston says. He slides a hand up Mitch’s chest, over the tulle that’s tacky with come, and drops a kiss on Mitch’s collarbone. “I’m pretty sure this is exactly how it’s supposed to look.”

Mitch laughs. He feels _so_ good. “I don’t know, though,” he says. “You might need to buy me another one.”

“Yeah?” Auston raises his eyebrows at him. Mitch nods, feeling a little shy now that it’s all over. Auston bends down to kiss him again. “I will then,” he whispers against Mitch’s mouth. “I’ll buy you all the dresses you want.”


End file.
